a/n: request for Lobo/Chubby!Reader, hope you enjoy. :)
cw: SMUT/18+ ONLY, reader has a pussy, fingering, mating press, drinking, drunken hook-up, f!reader, chubby!reader
masterlist ao3 requests
PREVIEW:
You and Lobo meet at a bar, and you find out he wants to take a bite.
Lobo/Reader
You think you're not quite drunk yet, but you're making your way there. It's been a long day of putting up with clients and all you need is a brew on this dump of a space port until your ship slinks in tomorrow morning.
Which means that there's a specific series of events that must happen before the incoming dawn the next day. You're going to get as shitfaced as you can until you feel like you can't blink straight, stumble your ambling way to the doorway of your room, and collapse on the bed until your alarm jolts you awake from the veil of unconsciousness.
You hold up your watch to make sure you've set your alarm, though now that there's a slight tilt to the world, it seems like it's harder to tell the hour than before.
You hold up your arm to the the dingy light of the bar, and this is when you take a few things into visual reconciliation. As in, you become aware of the neighbor beside you that you're certain wasn't there a few drinks ago.
He's massive, with an impossible, indomitable musculature and a bad attitude to go with it—he seems to practically dwarf his seat and you in comparison. Vaguely, you're aware that even though the bar is relatively crowded with other people in pursuit of that invaluable hobby of getting wasted, there is no one on either side of him, save you.
Ad it appears in your ignorance of him in the pursuit of getting shitfaced, it seems he's racked up his own arsenal of empty shot glasses that litter the ample countertop around him. You realize only belatedly that he's staring at you, and that if you're able to reckon the way he stares at you, then you must be staring back.
He's smiling with rather impressive set of teeth. But even through the haze of alcohol, it seems like this is more carnivorous than friendly.
"See somethin' you like?" He asks, and as he leans in, he looms over you, dominating all other visual acuity you might be able to spare. He overpowers all your other senses, a powerful arm brushing away the glasses that carousingly roll away from him, now that they're beneath his notice. It appears that you are on the forefront of his awareness.
"Oh—"—you're at a loss for words, so you search for honesty—"—I'm just trying to tell the time."
You hold out your arm for him to see, framed in the dull light—those red eyes drink in the sight of your arm offered out to him, in plain view for him to admire.
"I'm kinda fucked up right now." You confess to him, as though this was poignantly obvious for his reckoning. Perhaps this is what makes his grin gleam brighter, even though he's cloaked in shadows much as you are. It's odd how he seems to be illuminated by a breadth of light that you can't understand.
"Lemme see." He reaches out with a wide hand, and you can't help but suck in an obvious gasp at the way that the calloused landscape of his palm feels against your soft skin. He make a proprietary noise at your audible admission.
Something twists taut in your abdomen as you watch him look at the information your watch relays to him. Though, you wonder if he's only taking the chance to run an inquisitive hand down the length of your forearm. Part of you hopes he won't stop.
Then, he looks up to you—you feel rooted to your seat as he stares you down. He hasn't let go of your arm.
"Says you ain't drunk enough," He's crude as he informs you around a coarse smile, "You can tell that those're still numbers."
It takes a second for the joke to catch up to you, but you smile irregardless—this prompts his own to grow. "Funny. You got a point though."
"Yeah, don't I?" He sets a gaze you might define as appraising upon you, before he turns to the sleepy-eyed bartender, releasing you from the grasp of one of his hands.
But only one—the other still traps your wrist in his fist that easily holds the width of your arm. It might take others ample time to do that, but he manages so easily something takes steals your breath away.
"Hey—two more shots." He informs with a display of thick fingers—you wonder how it would feel to have them pushed into your mouth, though you suppose this is drunken thoughts making manifest.
And the thought of more alcohol is suddenly making you draw up in surprise, though the bartender obliges the production of two shots of disturbingly clear spirits. A dribble of the liquid winks down the side of one of the glasses.
"You think you had enough?" You ask, and it's at this inquiry his hand tightens over you, making something electric ghost up your arms, up your back, in your core. You have to clench your legs together to keep from saying something you'll regret.
"Never—"—He graces you with a wicked grin, and jerks his head in the direction of one that you realize is closer for your benefit—"—'Sides, one of 'em's for you."
You're touched, but something winks suspicious in you. You decide to play hard to get. You can tell from the way his shoulders broaden, he's eager to match the challenge.
"I can buy my own drinks." you assert. He chuckles, and it's a crass sound that goes to all the right places.
"Didn't say you couldn't." He says, and his hand that holds you is drifting up your arms—with how big his palm is, it's no difficult task for him to search you. You let him.
"Maybe," His voice growls deep, his eyes finding yours, "I wanna buy 'em for a cutie when I see 'em."
"What cutie are we talking about?" you ask, letting a sly smile dart across your face. He is flirting with you.
"The one I'm looking at." He shoots back expertly, and there's a great palm that presses over the span of your thigh—you look only with your eyes to see that possessive hand begin to travel up the length of your leg. God, it's big. God, his touch burns.
You look back up to him, this man—this giant who seems insistent to while down your defenses which are already rapidly crumbling. "I don't even know your name."
He smirks. "Surprised you don't."
"Should I?" You ask, willing to play the game. You don't think you've had this fun in a while, and it's been a long day.
"More fun you don't." He says, but it's clear from the hesitance on your face that the game stops if he does.
"Lobo." The syllables hit rough. But, one good turn for another—you produce your name for him and this makes that hint of teeth return once more.
"So what do I owe you for this?" You ask, tilting your head.
"Think you're a smart girl." His voice pitches in a low timbre, that hand that is making up to the junction of your hip and thigh growing needy. You have to smother a gasp as it clenches tight. You know what I want, it says, though you'd have to be a fool to not be able to discern it from the look in his eyes.
But you don't resist the surprise in your voice as his intentions sink through. "Oh—really? Me?"
Not that you haven't had your roll in the hay with many a one-night stand—but Lobo seems far out of your wheelhouse, not the type to usually look your way. Except that he's looking very intently, with an insistence, with a hunger that you're certain he intends to satiate.
"Why the fuck not?" He asks and you have to breathe in slow, careful—especially as that thumb works into the flesh of your hip, rolling the vulnerable skin easily in his hand. Letting you know just how bad he wants you.
"Think I could really sink my teeth into a girl like you—"—He chuckles and you know that you're going to fuck him—"If you want."
"Maybe I do." you say, and your voice reflects the same desire in those eyes.
"Then come on." He paws at you, eager to usher you to more convenient locales. "Drink up."
It burns going down, but you've never been more excited for the scald than now, as it sears the inside of your mouth, your throat. You barely have enough to process it, before you feel that great hand pawing at your arm, ushering you along; you're barely cognizant of Lobo settling his debts with the bartender before you feel your center of gravity becoming unmoored, going topside-up—you gasp.
"Easy," He grunts, but you barely register the words as you feel a great palm ease down under your thighs, "Just gettin' us there quicker."
And then he lifts you up, over the heft of his shoulder. You've never been manhandled in such means, to be hefted around like nothing, to be used like this, in front of everyone.
You radiate heat with humiliation and a terrible warm arousal that's sinking in the pit of your stomach, in between your legs—but you can't even acknowledge the eyes of the gaping onlookers in the bar, who avert their gazes as Lobo turns to look at them. All you can think about is the hand that has clapped over the slope of your ass, squeezing possessively.
"Think I'm gonna," He grunts in your ear and you shudder, "Take my time with you."
You're drunk, so you don't really keep track of everything, the quick journey to the room that he's booked in one of the greasy motel stops for the night—all you're aware of is when you finally stop.
All you can keep track of is the way that those rough hands feel pawing at your clothes, peeling you out of them, the deep, throaty chuckle as he tears away each layer that makes you feel more and more vulnerable.
He pushes you onto the bed—you're not quite certain when you were sat down there, as he was making rather convincing argument with his mouth as it sucked on the column of your throat, his hands coaxing you out of your shirt.
The scrape of the sheets pull against your back, but you don't take heed of this—all you can do is gasp as he frees you from your bra with a sharp tug, the fabric ripping. You don't care: all you can take in are those eyes that are dark with a needy lust.
He looks at your tits with sharp appraisal, something evaluative and heady in his eyes—his hand that tore your clothes asunder rolls a tit against the calloused landscape of his palm. His thumb working over your nipple, making it pert and draw to attention.
You angle your head back into the bed, mouth a perfect 'o' as you moan, though your breath catches as his other hand works to free you from your pants—when the air catches on your legs and you're down to nothing but your panties, you can't help but feel vulnerable, shy.
"Uh-uh," He scolds you, as your thighs begin to involuntarily tuck in, reticent to his visual analysis, "Keep 'em open for me."
His hand is massive, and as it pushes your thighs back open, his fingers turn to swipe over the fabric that protects your entrance from the roam of his fingers—there's a low, crude chuckle he makes as he feels how damp it is, the manner that you buck into him, grind against the heel of his palm.
"Want me bad, dontcha?" He asks and you whimper, nodding wordlessly—any verbal plea that you could make falls by the wayside in your state of inebriation and want. You want this man who's so clearly wanted you from the beginning, who makes you feel so small in comparison, who treats you like a piece of meat—you want him to fuck you.
"Please—"—You beg, but he's already obliged the physical request that you've made quite clear, pulling your panties to the side so that he can tease a rough fingertip at your entrance. You can tell that it won't take much, and he doesn't waste much time to slide in a finger; another crass noise escapes him as he admires how easily your pussy swallows it up, a punched-out moan of pleasure making its way out of you.
"Oh, fuck—"—You whine, but you don't have time to really say more before he starts to set a pace, curling his middle finger in just the way you like it. There's something unnerving, how well he knows the needs of your body, the way that you want to be touched.
The thumb and forefinger of his attending other hand pinch your nipple and you start, though the sigh eases its way into a satisfied groan that he mirrors as he watches your reaction.
"Fuckin' look real good like this, honey," He praises you in that coarse, proprietary manner he did in the bar, "Think you're gonna take my cock real nice."
"Yes—yes," You agree, because you think if you can take this finger, which already felt impossibly huge, you'll do that no problem. You wish he would put you to the test, as you rock against this finger that is ekeing such pleasure from the meter of your body, that is making your thighs tremble, that is making you sigh and have your breath catch so piteously. "Please—I want it—"
"Yeah?" He asks, and he pushes his finger in even deeper—you wail. He laughs at the noise, at the way that your legs spread wider, eager to take what he can offer, even in the throes of coming undone. "I like a girl who says what she wants."
"Ah—"—He pumps his finger in again, hitting the back of something that makes your vision blur, that makes spots dance—and this is only his finger—"—I can do it, Lobo, please—"
"Heard ya the first time," He says, and then that finger slides out, and takes with it all the electric heat—but there's something that shocks through you as he squeezes your tit, as you hear the grate of his zipper unshelving the goods. You can't help but sit up a little to look.
He's huge—just like every other part of him. As you look at his cock that juts out for you, that hand working up and down the length, something in you does wonder how you're going to take this, how you're going to be so sore in the morning. You wonder if you'll even be able to walk. But you're hopelessly, drunkenly excited for the prospect.
He doesn't give you much time to consider this, though from the gleam of those canines, the way that his eyes are predacious as they watch you, he's happy with the stunned look that you have. But then you find your legs pulled up by the ankles, swiped up in the grasp of that hand that was eager to seek out the warmth of your pussy.
One of your legs is rather brusquely hefted over one shoulder, the other over the other—he moves you with ease, presses your legs back—you gasp with the pain and pressure as his body pushes over you. But you have more pressing matters at hand—rather, the length of his cock that is pushed against your entrance.
You feel the curve of the head edge against the slick heat—all you can do is feel your mouth fall agape, stare up at him as he grins down at you, ready to eat you alive.
"Ready?" He asks, and it's clear that he's going to have a good time. You nod and this is all the permission he needs before he sinks into you, rolling those wide hips down with deliberate gravity to ease you into it. The stretch of your walls is unbearable, something excruciating and agonizing and wonderful at once as he works that cock both long and wide, tapering at the base as he pushes further and further in.
"Oh my God—"—You breathe, because you feel as though all the air has been pushed out of you as he works into you. Your fingers clutch desperately into the sheets, his hand still finding purchase on your tit that grasps hungrily at you.
His other hand finds landing on your hip to work himself in—you feel like you're being split open. You open your mouth to make a noise but nothing comes out, your eyes twist shut—you're certain that he can't even be halfway in but he's already hitting the back—
"Doin' good," he praises you, which feels like a badge of honor, "Takin' me real well."
"Fuck—"—Is all you can think to say as his hips buck into you—"—Fuck—"
"Yeah?" He asks, and it's almost taunting, as you can feel sweat beading at your forehead, something treacherous and wonderful building in the pool of your abdomen. "Let me help you out with that."
He pulls back, and there's a relief but also a sense of missing something—you don't have to miss it for long. It's a terrible, leisurely move he makes as he rolls his hips back into you, sinking his cock back in. And then he starts to set the pace.
You feel like you're nothing more than a fuckdoll, a possession being fucked into the bed, with the brutal pace that he starts to set as he sails in and out of you. The only noise that fills the room are the obscene, wet noises as he sinks in his length in and out of you, the helpless moans as he fucks himself into you, the low, dirty groans he grits through his teeth as he takes his fill.
His hand abandons your tit to meet the other one around your waist, so that he can press your legs back even further against him—his fingers sink into the soft flesh of your hips, practically wrapping around you as he pumps in and out of you.
The air is taut and charged, something intoxicating as he mutters dark praise under his breath about how good your tits look bouncing up and down him, how he likes a girl with meat on her bones, how he likes the way you look pressed under him—
"Doin'—so good," He says, and it's both praise and challenge as he hits the back again and you see stars—"—Think you can take more?"
"Yes, yes, yes," You beg and he chuckles as he obliges, that slick length working in and out of you with abandon. "More, please, please—"
You feel perspiration beading at your temple, something galvanizing as he continues to fuck you, something building easily and steady as he continues to push you to the edge with that relentless pace that has both moans and curses sliding out of you.
"Lobo—"—You twist your eyes shut, fist the sheets in your clenched grasp—"—I can't—think I'm gonna—"
"Yeah?" He grunts as he keeps that rhythm that you chasing that nascent heat that builds greater and greater in your abdomen. "Lemme see it."
You're not one to disappoint—you keen as you shake through your orgasm that's arrived embarrassingly fast—but you can't really blame yourself. The ample flesh of your thighs trembles as he holds you steady, only slowing the pace but not entirely stopping as he keeps fucking you through it.
You writhe under him but can't fully escape—not that you want to—a litany of praise and curses as you come. It's everything you wanted, everything you needed—it's perfect.
You're only vaguely aware of the hands that are pawing at your tits, squeezing the flesh on the comedown, though you can't entirely ignore the cock that is still working into you, the eyes that are admirative, the smile that is hungry to watch you.
"That was—"—You attempt, but fail to truly put to words how you feel—"—That was—"
"Real' fuckin' great," He grins. "Think I'm gonna like it the next five times, too."
Seems like a promise, as he sinks back into you, that he intends to fulfill. You think you've never been less excited for the morning to get here, as round two begins with a roaring start.
Dividers provided by the amazing @strangergraphics
Lobo realising Reader has a thing for him and being like "hmmm...payday or cute guy....payday or cute guy....cute guy then payday...?"
Reader: "Um...I have a suggestion?"
Lobo: *still thinking* "Go on."
Reader: "You could capture me, get the money, THEN break me out. Payday AND cute guy. Plus lots of violence, probably."
Lobo: "...where the hell have you been all my life--"
Kara: *face-palm*
“Where have you been all my life?” Lobo chuckled.
“Waiting for you, handsome,” you mused, taking his hand in both of yours, you leaned into his space and grinned. Kara’s irritation was background, her glare aimed at the back of your head was as poignant as the annoyed and baffled sigh she let out.
Dexter was observant. He watches you, and quite closely at that. you're his girlfriend, almost 3 years in this coming March. He knows you, like his own brain. he knows your ticks, your tells, when you're lying, and when you're needy.
You're being a brat, have been all day. snapping off at Deb, closing the elevator on Batista, and blatantly ignoring Dex. he doesn't know what happened, he left for work this morning, with you, and everything seemed fine. Your behavior was causing unnecessary tension in the department, and it was throwing him off his game. he needed to fix it, fast. He can't have his angel baby upset, not now, not ever.
he calls out for you, peeking his head out from his office, just as you're about to say something that could cause a suspension. you turn around, head snapping with so much force he wonders if you might have whiplash. Dexter walks over to you, beckoning you to his office. you roll your eyes, annoyed at his attempt to calm you down.
you turn away, trying to move from him, but he doesn't let you. Dexter grabs your hand, turning you to face him, tits pressed tight to his chest. "My office, now. don't argue, don't fight, and don't whine." your mouth gapes open, nodding dumbly, head down as you follow him. you walk into his office first, pretending to look at the supplies to seem nonchalant, but failing as you jump from the click of the lock.
You turn, trying to explain yourself, to delay the inevitable. But Dexter only shushes you. you can see the way his eyes darken slightly, the way his lips press into a grim line as he looks you over, following you as you back up against a wall. the blinds are closed, you realize as you look over, trying to avoid his gaze, you're fucked.
"you're upset." you scoff, avoiding his eyes as they glare at you. "clearly. good job noticing the obvious." your sentence is meant to come out as a hiss, but it sounds more like a timid whisper. Dexter chuckles at you, a dark one full of mirth and irritation. it startles you a bit, watching as he smiles again. he moves, head tilting down as he forces you to look at him, hand squeezing your face so tight it brings you to tears.
"oh don't fucking cry now. You wanted this, you're an uptight, spoiled, bratty fucking princess who cant function if she doesn't get some dick in her within 12 hours." you're embarrassed, not just because everything he's saying is true, but because you're getting so fucking wet from how mean he's being to you.
Dexter kneels, forcing your legs apart as you squeal, right leg lifted onto his shoulder. he takes a sniff at your panties, watching how the wet spot on your panties stick to your lips. he kisses them, through the underwear, before licking a broad strip from your hole to your clit. he slips his tongue to your hole, letting it go in you as deep as the cloth will allow, then flicking his tongue in a rhythm that feels so good accompanied by the friction of your panties.
it 's overwhelming, burning pleasure shooting through every part of your body as your head tilts back against the wall, biting your tongue so he doesn't stop. He continues this, making out with your covered hole and bud of nerves, soaking the cloth and making you whimper and whine.
it's enough to feel so, so fucking good, but not enough to make you cum. he pulls back, letting your leg fall back down, your chest heaving as you almost slide down the wall. Dexter doesn't let you fall, catching you as you start to slip. he pulls you towards him, guiding you onto his desk as he slips his hand under the waistband of your underwear.
he rubs your clit, kissing from your ear to you collarbones, sucking a collection hickies that burn purple and red, before biting down so harshly that you're sure it'll bruise even more. Dexter's a sadist, this sadistic display of power and pleasure, is foreplay to him.
eventually, he gives you a break, kissing your lips before speaking again. "lift your hips." you hesitate, looking at him in confusion, "come on, be good for me angel. know you're smart to figure out what i'm gonna do." you oblige, following his direction as he pulls your underwear down. He wraps them up, twisting them into handcuffs as he forces your arms behind you, tying them with your arousal and spit soaked underwear.
he maneuvers you using your arms, so that you turned towards him now. Dexter flick your skirt up, kissing a cheek before harshly slapping it. He doesn't let up though, repeatedly hitting you, sometimes with so much force that you wonder if he's punching your ass just to fuck with you and your dirty moans.
he stalls for a second, and you wonder if you're done, before yo hear his belt buckle unlatch, and his tip, come into contact with your lips. he doesn't slip it in, no no no, this isn't a reward. and you both know that. it's a punishment.
he fucks your slit, rubbing his cock between your lips and letting his tip twitch against your clit. you squeal and whine at every movement he makes, not once daring to fight him. he forces your back down, making you arch against his desk table as he gets close. you're so close too, but he cums before you. it's groans and sighs from him, as you feel the warm sticky liquid drip onto your cunt.
Dexter lifts you up, kissing your forehead and wiping the tears and sweat from your face as he undoes the makeshift cuffs. he puts them back on you, rubbing your cunt so that the underwear stick to you and the cum.
Dexter sits you on his lap, letting your tremors die down as you rest your head in his neck, content. he feeds you a cookie, watching as you take every bite with a smile. you refuse a drink, but promise to drink soon. He knows you will, he watches you 24/7. He kisses you once more before patting your ass and letting you leave, before you open the door, on shaky legs, he calls out. "be a good girl, i'll take care of you later."
will die on this hill. the dad best friend fanfics that go into detail about how they have known you since your were 4 are disgusting and borderline disturbing. like your talking about having sex with a girl you literally watched grow up. ew. it’s creepy. like… no.
thinking about how Dexter Morgan likes to tease you during sex in the most annoying ways. his aching cock throbbing inside of you hitting the deepest spots inside of your gummy walls. he can feel itevery time you spasm or moan out, the sound reverberating from inside of you.
you beg him to be nice, to stop teasing and being so so mean, only for your plea’s to fall on deaf ears. it’s only when you start sobbing out in need that Dexter decides to give you what you want, tilting his hips to hit that perfect little spongy spot inside of you, causing black spots to show in your vision.
your brows scrunch while your mouth goes lax as you try to stay coherent, but with the way his tip is punching your g spot, the hands on your hips leaving bruises, and the painful hickies blooming on your chest and neck, you don’t think it’ll even be possible.
Summary: After having your second child you start to notice changes on your body. Stretch marks and weight gain that unrealistic beauty standards had taught you were 'ugly', but Ch'Kall assures you there's nothing wrong with you
Warnings: Kinda self hate, Body worship, reader is kinda plus sized, anal, knotting, pregnancy risk,
A/N: I've had this one in the vault for a GOOD while now before some of my recent chapters but never got around to finishing it! Hope you enjoy!
*○~○▪︎•°▪︎°• 🔥💋🔥 •°▪︎°•▪︎○~○*
Kweitiri was beside her baby brother, Vir'ock. She was so happy to have a younger sibling, even as he is barely able to sit up she still insisted on showing him everything. Sharing her toys with him, insisting Ch'Kall make her bed bigger so they could share, and when you went out on walks she would tell Vir'ock all she knew about about the jungle.
"This is the best idea you've had" you told your mate while your family was on one of these said walks.
Kweitiri was running around frantically, grabbing every leaf, rock, and flower she could grab to show and explain to him. Moreso just show to him.
"This is rock from there!" She showed him a random rock she picked up from the ground somewhere. "This is leaf from trees! This is flower from trees! This is stick from trees!"
It was just adorable. Vir'ock just staring out while his sister tried to show him the whole world and he doesn't even understand a thing. Until Kweitiri picked up what your former team named a Vampire Snakebat
"Oh no no no! Kweitiri put that down!"
Vampire snakebats look like Cobras but with a mane that look like bat wings, and while not venomous they are like leaches trying to suck your blood.
Ch'Kall went to Kweitiri to pick the creature from her hands and toss it back into the forest.
《 in Yautja 》
"Kweitiri, thats not safe for you or Vir'ock"
"Im sorry, papa"
"How about we go back home for now, it will be dark soon, your mother is getting tired and we'll need to put your brother to bed"
"Yes papa! Let's go home" she immediately began running back the way we came from
All four of you were around the fire pit. Vir'ock was wrapped in a small carrier around your chest making it easier to hold especially while you were nursing him. Every now and then he would clench on to your plush skin. At first you thought it was cute of him holding onto you like something is going to pull him from you, then you began to notice your body getting a bit fatter.
Ch'Kall knows that when you'd ate the meat you'd make it into small strips to make eating them easier for you and Kweitiri. Hes noticed lately that you've been making them thinner and eating less.
"You not eating"
"Huh? Oh no yes I'm eating im just... tired" yawning as you cradled Vir'ock "I should get to bed"
Later that night. Your children were sound asleep and the red coals from the fire dimly lit the room. Ch'Kall was snoring but thats not why you were barely awake.
You got up and wandered outside to the waterfall oasis. There were a few rocks your mate had brought that really intrigued you. These rocks were so reflective that they were almost like mirrors. You thought they were cool, now you can be checking on your appearance especially with every new outfit and piece of jewelry you made.
But now as you undress in front of it you hate what you see. Your body covered in stretch marks from your stomach, breasts, thighs, and arms. How much wider you've gotten. Not much wider in retrospect, maybe like an inch or two but its still noticeable. There's no other humans around to give you shit for gaining a little weight but its the memories of society deeming fat and stretch marks as "gross".
"Its not like Ch'Kall cares at all... he's Yautja so he doesn't uphold the same standards as humans... right?" You were too busy looking at your stomach to notice Ch'Kall creeping up behind you. "Aghh! Ch'Kall wh-what are you doing up?"
"You not in bed, followed your scent and find you sad, why sad?" He tilted his head
"It's nothing... we should get back to bed" he grabbed your arm
He says your name "you look at your stomach and look angry and sad. Why?"
You huffed and admitted "Its because... look at me, my body is larger and more scarred than when you first met me"
"Yes bigger, you had pups, body will grow and change. But why sad?"
You grabbed back at his arm "because back on earth... we're taught that this, our body fat and stretch marks make us undesirable. Something we should be ashamed of or else we're ruined"
He let you sink onto him. "You no less desirable to me, I still mate with you again and again"
You blushed and smiled "I know, but those ideas are instilled in me. Even if there's no other humans to see me like this I'm still ashamed that my body is scarred and loose" you tried putting on your coat but Ch'Kall yanked it off "hey! What the he-"
He pulled you close to him, groping your butt and inhaling your scent
"Woah! Baby! What did I say about-"
Ch'Kall turned you and held you in front of the mirror rocks. Then grabbed at your stomach fat, letting is sink through his fingers.
"To Yautja, scars are worn with pride" he growled "they signs of survival from toughest battles. Childbirth is worst of all"
"Well that is true"
Ch'Kall's hands moved up to your breasts
"Your body survived and bared two younglings who my lineage. With scars that show you survive not just baring Yautja pups, but mating with big Yautja male" nuzzling his face on his mark he left on your shoulder the first time you mated. Which often means he's in the mood. He looked at the mirror's reflection into your eyes. "You my mate" your name "I love you and you battle scars" his hands gently slid down to your hips covered in stretch marks.
You turned to look back at him to kiss him. He gently wrapped his mandibles around your face to kiss back. Which is mostly just him pressing his teeth on your lips. You slid your hands up and down his arms, feeling his scars he's gotten from hunts. Both of you relishing in each other's battle scars.
"If you still not believe me..." he squeezed your butt again, flipped you on your hands and knees, making you face the mirror. "You will watch how much I love you!"
Pulling down your skirt and spreading your butt apart, his hands sliding from your butt to your thighs, your stomach and your breasts, squeezing them every now and then.
"You always be mine" he groans your name "Perfect. Worthy. Mine" you could feel him growing between your thighs, the warm and wet member sliding across your womanhood, both to tease you and lube himself, where he set himself by your rear.
Ch'Kall slowly inserts himself. Its always tighter than the usual way. To you it feels odd but its enjoyably stimulating.
"Oh thats right, Ch'Kall" you moaned "thats it right there"
Thrusting his hips forward, his fingers teasing your clit securing you in place. He made an odd sound like purring and grunting
"Ooh Fu-" Ch'Kall wrapped your mouth shut
"I like your screams but pups are sleeping" he growled, he slid his hand and placed his arm in front of you "claim me again"
The same arm when you had claimed him. You bit down on it trying to contain your squeals. He continues to buck his hips, trying to restrain himself. He doesn't want to wake your kids but he doesn't want to hold back either.
He pulls his arm away and grabs your hips, sliding you off of him.
"H-hey what are-" Ch'Kall then inserts himself in your womanhood "Hey! What-"
He shuts your mouth with one hand "grab on me" he whispers so you try to grab on by his forearms as he thrusts back in your moist entrance.
Ch'Kall! No! I don't want you to stop but this is too risky!
Your eyes roll back
The warmth builds, you're cumming but soon so will he if you keep going at this.
Its a bit of a struggle but soon enough he pulls out of you as his knot is beginning to swell and begins to move it back inside your butt. You're already huffing for air so you just take it as he continues to thrust. Finally ejaculating inside you.
He presses his hips to yours as he empties his balls in your rectum. Trying to muffle his own groans into your hair.
"Ch'Kall... *pant* what... *pant* the hell *pant* was what?"
He paused for a long while until he started purring and pampering you.
"Baby, don't think that you can get out of this by being so cute"
He wrapped his arms around your stomach "you... believe now?" Panting for air
"Yeah... *huff* I do..." you laughed as you tried to kiss him, barely pecking his cheek "thanks"
"I rrove you" he nuzzles into your head
You smile "I love you too" but it soon dropped "still, that was wreckless of what you just did, what if you didn't pull out in time? We just had Vir'ock what if you got me pregnant again? That's not something we can afford"
Why am I saying afford like we make payments or something
"Look... I just let you convince me to have another baby, and I'm happy. I love you and I love our kids, I've mostly gotten over my fear of failing motherhood... Kweitiri is wonderful and Vir'ock is so sweet, holding them for the first time was such a magical moment" you cooed. Ch'Kall nuzzles into your neck.
"Oh, Ch'Kall, I forgive you, just next time warn me if you're going to be so spontaneous"
He purrs "you always enough for me~"
Days later, you're all seated in front of a flat wall watching Ch'Kall's mask play more past video logs. This feels almost like a movie night, imagine if I could get Ch'Kall to record all the avatar movies like one of those old DVR machines. You giggle to yourself.
"What are we watching tonight, babe?"
"Canidae"
"Hmm?" You hear screaming and shouting going on. Oh... oh no... this day...
On the screen, you and your last living colleague were taking on a pack of canidae beings. You managed to bring down the alpha beast but the pack brought down your friend. With a guttural battle cry you stap your makeshift spear into its head. After that you were exhausted, starving, on your last lifeline. You remembered it too well.
"This was the moment, Kweitiri, that I knew your mother was worthy and I had to make her mine"
"Wow mama! You were so brave and strong!" Kweitiri chirped. Your family was amazed at this moment of your strength and resilience, but you only remember the pain.
"Thank you, sweetie" was all you could say. You felt like you were going to die at that moment, until you heard the voices.
Ch'Kall lured you and saw your expression of fear. Even as you felt like everything was dying, something inside kept fighting. You faced Ch'Kall's chest as to not look back at this moment.
He played through more memories. Your kids were entertained.
"Mama, you look so small then, but now you're big"
You glared at her, Ch'Kall purred "I like you big" his hands slid around your now wider hips. "Breedable" he whispered
You gently slapped his chest "the kids are right here"
"Lets be out there-" you pressed your hand on his mouth
"Not... right now..." the painful memories of that day brought down the mood "how about we watch something else?"
You were relaxing under one of the canopies outside as you were breastfeeding Vir'ock, your feet digging in the sand. Kweitiri and Ch'Kall splashing around in the water taking turns playing water monster. She looks your way and saw your melancholic mood.
"Why is mama sad?" She asks in yautja
Ch'Kall doesn't know how to explain body shaming nor does he understand it himself. "Im not sure... Kweitiri, do you think your mama is beautiful?"
"Yes! Most pretty in all the world! Pretty like flowers! More pretty with flowers in her mane!" She chirps
"I have an idea" he whispers.
You wake up, seeing your son laying on your chest as his back rises and falls with every little breathe he takes. You press a gentle kiss on his crown. You look to the lake and notice your husband and daughter aren't there anymore. Huh, where could they have-
"Mama!" She jumps at your side
"OH FU- gosh... Tiri, you scared me for a sec, what are you doing out here? Where is-"
Kweitiri hugged you tight, lowering her hand as she tried not to crush her brother "I love you, mama" she purrs and clicks
"Aw, sweetie, I love you too" you hugged her back with your one free arm
"You pretty, mama! You always pretty!" She snuggles close to you.
You look up and see Ch'Kall behind her, clearly hiding something behind his back. Once he steps closer he presents a skull trophy, while small, still so thoughtful, with a whole ring of colorful flowers around it.
"Aw, Ch'Kall, this is so..." you notice the skull. Its a human skull. You freeze in place for a good long while
"Skull of ooman chief we battle when we became mates"
Oh yeah their bodies would still be there...
"...Oh... thats so... lovely" you awkwardly smiled. "I like it..."
"Mama, I brought you and Vir'ock berries" she extends out a bowl full of berries and slices of other fruits
You smiled again "thank you, baby girl"
She sits with you under the canopy while she holds her brother and as Ch'Kall feeds you the fruits
"You always bootiful" Ch'Kall purrs "no matter how big and round you get, I'll always await the day you'll let me breed you again~"
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jacobvanloon
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